Post by .PAAK on Nov 18, 2015 10:58:38 GMT -6
Shit, honestly, that’s a very good question; and, with a good question comes millions of answers. So, let’s start at the bottom and work up.
I had been working for this fuck-ass promotion called GFP. It was incorporated in Japan. I’ll make no qualms about it, that was likely the worst company I ever stepped foot in. First off, the promotion was racist and prejudice. Yeah, I know that sound like some shit, coming from a gutter white bitch like myself―but it’s true. Every wrestler of foreign descent was treated unfairly their. The staff made up rules, and they were specifically designed to hurt or hinder us foreigners, Gaijin, as they referred to us. Shit, and let’s not even mention the pay. It is actually cost me money to fly over there and work for them.
The only saving grace is that I gained a couple of friends.
Next, I moved on to Women of Miami Wrestling. Was it as bad as GFP? Naw, it wasn’t. Was it a step up? Hell naw. I’d call it a lateral move.
Look bruh, I understand the wrestling Business pretty well by now. There are large promotions, and that’s where the top talent goes; and, there are smaller indy places, where a upstart cuts his or her teeth. That’s all well a cool. But WMW, man, them girls couldn’t wrestle for shit.
I’m not bashing people―that’s just the God honest truth.
From day one, I was out of place there. I had only been wrestling a year and half, but my talent had far surpassed the entire rosters’.
Now, I aint gonna’ lie, I had fun there for a brief period of time. Think of it like this, the day I stepped foot into WMW, I was the top dog. I could do want I wanted, say what I wanted, and there were no repercussions whatsoever. Shit, I was even a better wrestler than he owner, Natasha Rose―no one could touch me.
However, running free and loose with no one to oppose you, it becomes a drag.
And so, I transitioned to Ultimate Wrestling Force. The company was holding a tournament to crown its Ultimate Champion. I wasn’t doing shit, and I needed a fight, so I signed up.
But low and behold, it’s was the same old shit.
UWF turned out to be a blend of GFP and WMW, with a slightly higher budget. The only person that could really compete with me was Beeca Raze―and I slaughtered her. After that match, shit, I was bored as hell.
VoW simply offered everything that those promotions didn’t have. Not that money mattered (since my sister was paying for everything anyway), but the pay was decent―for once, I wasn’t losing money to work. The stage was bigger, a whole lot more people were able to witness these massacres in the ring. Most importantly tho’, the lure of competition is what brought me to the company. A Demon without a Hero is merely a lonely creature. However, when a Demon and Hero combine―well, then you’ve got a violent, magically fairy tale.
Tyler Storm turned out to be the Hero in my fairy tale. Was he ideal? No, not at all. He wasn’t crafty, he was easily manipulated, and most of the time he was just plain stupid.
However, when Zelda and Owen weren’t juggling his balls, he had some heart. It amused me to fuck with him. It amused me to pummel his wife. It amused me to steal the I4NI title from his bloody hands.
Hmm, but once again, I find myself getting bored.
There aren’t many people in VoW that can fuck with me in that ring:
Ryder―meh
Valquist―Kanye shrug
English―perhaps
The fact of the matter is, I’ve proven myself to be better than many people here. So, what is there for a monster to do?
There’s not a lot of fresh new prey out there―
I guess that just leaves our dimmed witted Hero, doesn’t it?
Hey yo’, gather around kids. I got a story to tell. And don’t worry, it’s gonna’ be some shit.
Ahem…
In a land, very close and very near, there was a Knight. To be more specific, he was a White Knight. The peasants and wenches of the town called him the Hybrid. Sure, ‘twas a foolish, idiotic name―however, it suited him, I guess. Therefore, it stuck.
And so, as a Knight is want to do, he traveled from foreign land to foreign land. Wherever he laid his sword was where he deemed home. First was Shootclub Wrestling Alliance and Shootcamp Championship Wrestling, then came Next Evolution Wrestling Alliance, 3CW, FedWars, etc. and etc. It wasn’t very long before a bunch of people knew of the Knight’s adventures.
During the course of those adventures, the Knight defeated hordes of goons, slayed vicious and dangerous dragons―hell, he even ended up saving and wifing one of those wenches he ran across. In each place that he traveled, he was proclaimed a savor.
By the time the White Knight landed in Visionaries of Wrestling, he thought he was battle tested. He fancied himself untouchable, impenetrable. He assumed that he would be able to run roughshod through that new land without any challenges.
How oh so very foolish.
Nevertheless, he was correct, for a brief period of time. VoW was all up in arms about the Knight’s arrival. Other knights and warriors jumped up, eager to test their skills against him. Of course, they failed.
But then, he ran across Her.
Similar to the White Knight, she had also traveled from foreign land to foreign land―however, people did not sing her praises. No no, she was more akin to a terrorist. It was never her intention to save anything or anyone; she much more content with demolition, destruction. Some people called her a “savage” or a “barbarian;” others referred to her as a monster.
She preferred the term Leviathan.
And so, these two forces crossed-paths. They fought, they struggled, they waged war. To both parties’ surprise, neither one would budge. The Knight would cut the Leviathan, but she’d heal right up. The Leviathan would retaliate; and while the White Knight didn’t heal as fast, sure enough, he’d still recover.
Soon, the two reached a bit of breaking point. The Knight grew tired of getting fucked up and having his “savor status” questioned. A “savor” must actually “save” of course, and the Knight had done a poor job. On the flip side, the Leviathan grew weary of fucking around with the man. A huntress can only toil with her prey for so long, ya’ dig.
Therefore, in the Darkest Hour, the two arranged to do battle, one...last...time.
Hope the White Knight dies a fucking horrible death.
That’s how you feel huh?
We didn’t do enough last time―should have killed him. Should have murdered him! Now, he thinks he’s somebody.
Hmm, is that true, Tyler? Do you really think you are somebody? Ha, or should I say, if by some miracle you happen to defeat me, do you think it’s going to prove something? Tyler, you’ve got a lot of “heart,” I suppose (more on that later). I can’t really question that. However, ignorance is your vice. In this case, your moment of ignorance occured when you decided to poke and prod the Leviathan on Twitter. A wise warrior would train and prepare himself mentally. You? Naw, before each and every match, you feel the need to take to Twitter and tweet your opponents, as if we give a shit about what you have to say.
I know I certainly don’t.
I care. He thinks pinning us will mean something―that he’s superior.
Oh, is that so? Tyler dearest, will pinning me help you get your rocks off? Will it help you feel some sense of self-worth? Validation?
Yo’ here’s the real kicker Tyler, you defeating me now only proves one thing―that you aren’t as good as you claim to be. OR, that you don’t live up to your own hype. Before Armed and Dangerous, you boosted to world that it would see a new side, a more animalistic side. You vowed that your new attitude would clear the path to victory―
But you failed!
You failed miserably. You are six-foot-four, almost one hundred and eighty pounds. You let damn Hobbit ruin your title reign, your peace of mind, and your sainty. I embarrassed you, Tyler, time and time again―that’s something you can’t wash away.
What about a second I4NI reign?
Tyler, for the duration of your career, you’ll have to deal with the fact that I injected myself into your head; may you be forever reminded of the fact that Scarlet Flint manipulated you. I don’t give two shits about you pinning me, nor do I care if I lose this belt.
Your second title will always be tainted.
I told you from the very fucking beginning that this war was never about the belt. I would have tapped dat’ as for free! So, truth be told, I’m not walking into Darkest Hour with the intent to retain this title―my intent is to murder you. My intent is to maim you. My intent is to break you like the lil’ bitch-by that you are!
Maim him! Maim him!
Once again, Tyler, you are in my wheelhouse. You see, that steel cage, it’s not to keep me from running away. I aint no pussy―I don’t run from shit. Naw, those bars are being implemented so that my massacre is confined to a limited part of the arena. I bet someone in the back is worried that I’d splatter your blood all across the Motorpoint Arena.
―Hmm, but if I were to be completely honest, this cage is bit symbolic to me; and, that’s the real reason why I’m looking forward to it. Tyler, what you’ve got to realize is, that for the majority of my life, I’ve been trapped behind iron bars. Physically, hell naw. I’m too smart and too sexy to do hard time. I’m talking about in my mind, yo’.
All my life, people told me I wasn’t shit, they told me I’d never amount to anything. They treated me like I had AIDS―they treated me like a damn outcast. So I internalized everything. I was trapped, confined, held hostage.
A few months ago though, I was introduced to a certain man. His name is Cameron; perhaps you know of him, Tyler.
I thought he just wanted to analyze me; I thought he wanted to condemn me, like all the countless doctors that came before me. And, while he did analyze me a bit, he didn’t condemn me. On the contrary―he accepted me, just as Figg and my sister had.
Those iron bars in my mind began to rust to the point that I was able to kick them down―
Free...free! They can’t hold us back. They can’t contain us anymore!
The feeling of liberation pulsated through my body. I felt like a new fuckign woman. Just to give you a full timeline, this occurred a couple weeks before Armed and Dangerous. That feeling of freedom helped me bludgeon Becca Raze to death over in UWF; and that’s how I became their world champion. But I wasn’t content. That emancipation caused me to injure Stacy Jones, and nearly murder your wife. And ultimately, that liberation lead to the lose of your I4NI Championship.
Should have finished the job, should have broken him!
The common thought is that you can do anything if you just have the right amount of heart and determination. That was your train of thought coming into Pay-Per-View match. You had all the motivation in the world to take me out. I nearly killed your unborn child.
And yet, you couldn’t get the job done. However, neither did I.
It appears your heart and determined has been sparked once again; and, I imagine that you will attempt to lash out in a much greater fashion. Am I right, Tyler?
So this time, I guess a bitch doesn’t just need to beat yo’ face in. Merely spilling your blood won’t be enough. Naw, this time Tyler, I’m going to break that heart, I’m going to break that spirit of yours.
Break him!
You think that you are so much better than me, Tyler. You think you are so much better than everyone else in VoW. Win or fucking lose, I’m going to slaughter you. I’m going to do this company a favor by getting rid of your dumbass.
You aren’t the White Knight of VoW. You aren’t this company’s savor. You’re nothing more than damn pest.
...And, you know the best way to get rid of pests right?
Kill them! Slaughter them!
END